Hemingway
wrote of the night in many of his novels , short stories.
HemingwayI believe suffered from
PTSD from his service as an ambulance officer in World War
l, and from nearly being killed, blown to anonymous bits as
were so many others , by a trench mortar July 1918. The
writer was not a man at peace. He had difficulty sleeping.
His best work reflects his listening for the voice of God in
the night.

“It
is awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the
day-time, but at night it is another thing. … … I know
the night is not the same as the day: that all things are
different, that the things of the night cannot be
explained in the day, because they do not then exist, and
the night can be a dreadful time…”

Hem’s
finest writing is the five pages long “ A Clean,
Well-Lighted Place.” I have read it at least a hundred
times.It is such a compassionate
story about our need for dignity, cleanness and order that
Hemingway, more often found struggling with bullfights,
big-game hunts, alcoholism and braggadocio, all to drown
out the sound of that approaching trench mortar, may not
have admitted to you that he wrote it. Every precisely
placed word is poetry.

“It
was very late and everyone had left the café except an
old man who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made
against the electric light. In the day time the street was
dusty, but at night the dew settled the dust and the old
man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night
it was quiet and he felt the difference. The two waiters
inside the café knew the old man was a little drunk, and
while he was a good client they knew that if he became too
drunk he would leave without paying, so they kept watch on
him.

‘Last
week he tried to commit suicide.’ One waiter said.
…..”

I
have on a sweatshirt Hemingway’s note about the writer
as listener: “When people talk, listen completely. Most
people never listen.” Listen to the two waiters, one
young, full of confidence and wanting to throw the old man
out, and Hemingway, speaking through the older waiter.

……

“Why
didn’t you let him stay and drink? The unhurried waiter
asked. They were putting up the shutters. “It is not
half-past two.”

“I
want to go home to bed.”

“What
is an hour?”

“More
to me than to him.”

“An
hour is the same.”

“You
talk like an old man yourself. He can buy a bottle and
drink at home.”

“It’s
not the same.”

“No
it is not,” agreed the waiter with a wife. He did not
wish to be unjust. He was only in a hurry.

“And
you? You have no fear of going home before your usual
hour?”

“Are
you trying to insult me?”

“No,
hombre, only to make a joke.”

“No,”
the waiter who was in a hurry said, rising from pulling
down the metal shutters. “I have confidence.I
am all confidence.”

“You
have youth, confidence, and a job,” the older waiter
said. “You have everything.”

“And
what do you lack?”

“Everything
but work.”

“You
have everything I have.”

“No.
I have never had confidence and I am not young.”

“Come
on. Stop talking nonsense and lock up.”

“I
am of those who like to stay late at the café, “ the
older waiter said. “With all those who do not want to go
to bed. With all those who need a light for the night.”

“ I
want to go home and into bed.”

“We
are of two different kinds,” the older waiter said. He
was now dressed to go home. “It is not only a question
of youth and confidence although those things are very
beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because
there may be someone who needs the café.”

……

“What
did he fear? It was not a fear or dread. It was a nothing
he knew too well. It was all a nothing and a man was a
nothing too. It was only that and a light was all it
needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived in it
and never felt it but he knew it was all nada y pues nada
y pues naday pues nada. Our nada who art in nada, nada be
thy name….…He would lie in
the bed and finally with daylight, he would go to sleep.After
all, he said to himself, it’s probably only insomnia,
many must have it.”

Quakers
have been listening to God in light, cleanness and order
since 1652.
The Circleville Quakers invite you to “Music and Poetry
for Peace and Justice”Saturday,
21 March6-9
PMat
Scioto Valley Coffee, 216 West Main. Bring a listening
ear, perhaps a poem to read.